Seven Days
by MyAlternativeUniverse
Summary: A week is an awfully long time. But a long time is never long enough. Frostiron. Trigger warning: rape
1. Seven days left

_Seven days left_

Loki was in the detached phase of sleep. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, not really thinking about anything in particular. Not the memories of those days in New York, not the torture he had received from the Asgardian justice force- not even his impending execution. He felt as if he was suspended above the world, seeing without watching. Hearing without listening. Touching without feeling. It felt good- almost at peace. _Almost._

As the first rays of sunshine streamed through the narrow gap in the stone wall that passed for a window, Loki became aware of the jarring pain that always accompanied a morning after another endless night in those cruel, cold cells. Immediately following his return to Asgard, the order came from the Allfather that he was only to receive the bare minimum of medical treatment. Odin always knew how to inflict pain, Loki thought bitterly. Tucking himself into a tight ball to conserve warmth, he swiveled his head to get a good view of every corner of his prison, as if somehow the conditions could have got better overnight. They hadn't.

The exactly cubical dimensions of the room remained. Just small enough to feel cramped in, but large enough to trigger a sense of despair and emptiness in its captive. A small hole in the corner served as a primitive waste disposal, and the only furniture was the thin blanket Loki crawled under every night in a futile effort to warm his chilled limbs. The blanket was, in fact, not originally included in the décor of his cell. It had been snuck in by the boy who took guard shift on Wednesday mornings. Loki remembered the ones that had been kind to him and the ones who had made him suffer in the loneliness of his dark confinement. His one hope was that he would be able to avenge the injustice inflicted on him before he was terminated.

0ooo0

The guilt was suffocating. Whilst the others had celebrated, Tony holed himself away. Sure, he attended enough events to appear his usual sociable self, but he always excused himself when they started discussing _him_. Thor always did the same, he noticed. The name felt like poison to his ears, but not exactly a completely poisonous poison- but more of a sort of drug, which made absolutely no sense. But then again, did anything? Did anything make sense in this messed up, unjust world? Tony shook his head. It was just the drink, he told himself. _Just the drink_.

His sole hope for an understanding ear was Thor, brother of _him_. The one person in this whole fucking place who might have some sort of insight into what he felt. He needed Thor, and some subconscious being told him that Thor needed him too. They were the only ones who could even begin to fathom what suffering they condemned _him_ to. Which was how Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, came to be standing outside the bedroom door of a demigod at three a.m. in his boxers.

Thor came to the door, yawning, and looking vaguely like an oversize, Thor-shaped puppy. "Antony," he said, in what would have sounded like a whisper to Thor but was normal level for everyone else. Tony winced at the thought of the rest of the Scooby gang knowing that he had visited Thor in the dead of night. He shimmied past the muscled god into the bedroom without invitation, shutting the door on his way in.

"Nightmares again?" Thor asked.

Tony nodded in confirmation, and proceeded to bury his head in his hands. "They're getting worse. This time, I was in the cell with him. It was horrible, man. I could hear the rats. And he was there, he was caked in dried blood, and looked right at me with those damn green eyes and said, 'You did this to me.' And then I was him, I was in Manhattan, and it was me raising hell out there, only to me it made perfect sense why I was doing it. We were the bad guys." He raised his gaze and stared Thor in the eye, his mouth open a fraction. "We were the bad guys." He repeated, as much to himself as to Thor. Thor sat down next to Tony and the bed buckled under his weight.

"It's difficult, I know. You obviously care much for Loki." The name made Tony wince, but his thoughts were preoccupied with the suggestion Thor had brought up: could it be that he cared for him? The thought had never entered his mind before, and yet, it made perfect sense. Tony groaned. He cared about a dead man. Never a good plan.


	2. Six days left

_Six days left_

"Get up."

The gruff command permeated Loki's uncomfortable slumber. In one feline movement, Loki raised himself from the stone floor. Nonchalantly, he questioned the guard. "The Allfather has brought my execution forward?" he said, yawning.

"No," the guard answered in a reluctant tone, "You've been pardoned."

Loki almost lost his composed expression. Beneath the peaceful surface however, a thousand ripples reverberated around his mind. _He was pardoned. He was not going to die. _He sighed. "Typical, just when I'd come to terms with my own demise."

He heaved himself from the prison floor, desperately trying not to show how stiff and in pain he was. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't avoid his ankle buckling under its newly borne weight. The guard's expression remained cool and aloof.

Stood on front of Odin, Loki realised how shabby he must look. He was still in his battle clothes, but they were coated in a layer of dirt, dulling the colours. And goodness, the _smell_. That imbecile Thor overlooked his formal pardoning, and Loki mentally ascertained who had enforced his pardoning. Another reason to hate his so-called brother.

0ooo0

"You mean we'll have to house the bastard?" Clint protested at the SHIELD meeting.

"One of the terms of the pardon is that Loki must live on Earth, with his powers bound, and in the hands of capable professionals who will be able to restrain him if necessary." Fury responded, evidently annoyed at the terms he was obliged to follow.

"This is a recipe for disaster," interjected Bruce, ever insightful, "He's not exactly known for following any form of rule."

"I say we dump him in a lake." Natasha chimed in.

Tony was silent. At this point, he would usually have locked eyes with Thor, but he was in Asgard collecting their ward. Steve was staring at Tony, and Tony was finding it extraordinarily uncomfortable. He barely paid attention to the debate ensuing around him, until Fury's rich tones sliced rudely through his train of thought. "What do you think, Stark?"

Tony jerked. The room was silent, and every eye in the room was on him. He felt a little sweat break out from his underarm. "What Loki did was wrong," he began, "And I'm sure as hell not saying we should forgive him. But I'll be damned if we don't treat him like a human being. Or frost giant or whatever."

The atmosphere was still and tense. Almost exactly at the same time, every eye turned to Fury. "Then it's settled." He said decidedly, and walked out of the room, hands folded behind his back, leaving behind silence and awkward glances.

0ooo0

Hostility was everywhere. They saw him as lower than an animal, and in a way, Loki relished it. He preferred to be _someone, _even if that someone be a monster. People would notice him now, and his deeds, whatever they may be, were his own. He was no longer simply the brother of Thor. He was Loki, the villain, the destroyer, the killer. He liked it like that.

A small part of him still protested, however. A part of him remembered the blissful days when he looked up to and respected Thor. A part of him still craved the pride in his heart when he saw his big brother being cheered by the inhabitants of Asgard - even if that pride was tainted with jealousy. But the new Loki would repress that insignificant cry before it was able to come to fruition in his actions.

Apart from Thor, there was another pair of eyes that had something different in them. Tony Stark, the man of iron, carried an unreadable expression. His big wet eyes betrayed his hatred, but also a sort of pity and pain. It was certainly a change, but for now it was impossible to tell if that change was good or bad.

0ooo0

"Are you sure you don't mind being alone with him?" Bruce asked. "I mean, everyone else pretty much wants to avoid him as much as possible…"

_"Bruce_," Tony said, "I. Don't. Mind."

Bruce breathed out, as if he had been saving his breath until Tony gave his confirmation. "I'd stay with you if you wanted, but I…"

"Seriously, dude. You want to leave, you leave." Tony said, smiling lopsidedly. No matter how annoying the fellow scientist got, you couldn't help but be fond of him. When he was in this form, at least. The big guy was a little harder to love.

When Bruce had almost jogged off to the lab, Tony turned to the door handle, and paused for a moment before grasping and turning the knob. Inside, Loki was seated on the black leather couch, with Thor standing, towering above him. They were glaring intently at each other, and Tony could feel the temperature difference of the room and the corridor. "Uh, ladies, I hate to interrupt this staring contest-"

"Then don't." replied Loki, without missing a beat or looking away. Eventually, after what felt like hours to Tony (did Asgardians have magic staring powers or something? Jeez.) Thor broke the gaze and averted his eyes. Loki smirked triumphantly and finally deigned to turn to look at Tony. As soon as he did, Tony felt his stomach do a little backflip. Those eyes. The same eyes that were in his dreams every night. Green, but they could easily be mistaken for blue. They had a depth and gleam to them that was unnatural, not at all human. Well. That figured.

"Your shift's over, big man." Tony addressed Thor with what he wanted to be a haughty tone, but ended up much quieter than what he'd envisaged in his head. Thor approached Tony and bent his head so he could whisper directly in his ear.

"Are you certain you want to be alone? I could stay." Tony rolled his eyes.

"I've had this conversation with Bruce already. You can go."

Thor regained his normal posture, but not without a meaningful look at Tony. Tony simply jerked his head a fraction towards the door, and Thor left without another word, his heavy footsteps practically shaking the entire building.

It was silent for many minutes. Tony dared not look up, but he could feel Loki's eyes on him. It was Loki who finally broke the silence involuntarily. A soft groan sounded, and Tony screwed up the courage to look at him. "You're hungry."

"I see you didn't phrase that as a question." But the rumble sounded again, and Loki grimaced.

"I'll make something. I'm not a good cook, be warned." Tony rushed to the kitchen adjoining the lounge and began a cacophony of grabbing pots and pans.

"Don't you have (grooooan) machines to do the menial work for you?"

"I'd prefer to do it myself" Tony replied. He had to play it cool, he thought. Cold and emotionless. Yeah, that was the best course of action.

After fumbling around for a few minutes in cupboards and running through his limited knowledge of cookery in his head (he'd once leafed through a book on Pepper's weekend off, only to give up and order pizza instead), he dumped a knob of butter into a frying pan, turned on the heat and cracked an egg into a small bowl. He added milk, turning as he did so to check on Loki. He caught Loki's gaze for a second and looked away. Why was everyone staring at him these days?

"You stand differently."

"Huh?" said Tony as he began to whisk the eggs and milk.

"The rest of them, when they see me, they stick their necks out and pretend they can't see me. But you slouch, and you always look away. You look like you're hiding."

"I'm not hiding," replied Tony quickly. "I mean, I'm just…" he tailed off and became absorbed in getting bread from the refrigerator.

Loki didn't answer. The silence was uncomfortable and Tony racked his brains for something to say to fill it.

"You're afraid of me."

Tony snorted. "I'm the least afraid of you in this entire house." He coated two slices of bread in the eggy mixture and laid them in the pan, and the sizzling of the pan temporarily created a filler in the impossibly awkward interaction.

"Maybe so, but you're still afraid of me."

Tony paused whilst grabbing a plate from the cupboard. "You keep talking about yourself, you realised?" His riposte came off weak and as he flipped the bread in the pan, Tony wondered what the frost giant was thinking.

It was silent for almost a minute, when Tony turned off the heat and dished the bread onto the plate.

"What is it?" asked Loki when the plate was brought to him.

"French toast," replied Tony, "basically the only thing I can cook so no, you're not allowed to turn your nose up at it."

"No, it's… good." Loki said, the word sounding inauthentic.

Tony returned to the stove and took the pan to the sink. Water rushing and very quiet chewing substituted for actual talk, and they waited in mutual silence for someone to relieve Tony of his duty.


End file.
